


kuka pelkää pimeää?

by hexburn (thestormapproaches)



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Astronomy, Based on a song, Boyfriends, Crying, Encouragement, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, back at it again with the ship no one asked for, copious astronomical references, feeling like a failure, video chatting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 17:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21103001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestormapproaches/pseuds/hexburn
Summary: SKT. RNG. FNC. CG.It's the Group of Death, and Fnatic are 1-2 down, and honestly, it's just hopeless. There's no way Martin could recover from this....Unless a certain special someone surprises him with a visit, some love, and plenty of encouragement.





	kuka pelkää pimeää?

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this before fnc had a banger of a day  
title and song lyrics from [Kuka pelkää pimeää?](https://open.spotify.com/track/32YoRPhngbp4ya4ezQfIzv?si=zCuP1MXVTGiz5DkSmRH6Jg) by a Finnish band called Herrat (same band as [uunana](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20598377), my other fic about these two) and this song is amazing as well! still in Finnish!  
a gorgeous music video for the song can be found [here, on Youtube](https://youtu.be/GZK1WoQbEbA), though the link won't work if you are in the USA.  
lyrics and an English translation can be found [here, on musixmatch.com](https://www.musixmatch.com/lyrics/Herrat/Kuka-pelk%C3%A4%C3%A4-pime%C3%A4%C3%A4/translation/english)

_ Kaupunki nukkuu mut me voidaan elää pidempään _

_ Mä nään sun silmist ettet öisin pelkää pimeää _

_ Ilta tummuu mut tää yö me yhtä pidetään _

_ Yhes kysytään et _

_ Kuka pelkää pimeää? _

“I can’t do this any more.”

Tears pour down the ADC’s cheeks and he buries his face in his hands, whole body shaking with the intensity of the hurt, the violence of his self-hate pounding through his head.

“I can’t,” Martin sobs, “I can’t, I’m not good enough.”

Either the camera is shaking fiercely, or Martin’s hands wobble like an adrenaline junkie with withdrawal symptoms. He barely manages to pick up a tissue and weakly scrub his tears away. “I just want to go home. I want to go home, _ our _ home, not some stupid flat in Berlin that doesn’t smell like you. I want to go back to Gothenburg and watch the snowfall. I want to go home and _ stay _ home,” Martin cries.

“I miss you.”

Softly, 600km away, Marcin’s eyes fill with sympathetic tears. “I miss you, too, _ kotek. _ Please don’t give up, I know you can do it, I know you can make it out of groups…”

The sounds of sobs strengthen and Marcin’s heart breaks even more. “I can’t. I can’t! I-”

“You _ can. _ Martin, I believe in you, I know you can.”

“I can’t.”

A shaky sigh.

“Marcin, you don’t understand, it’s hopeless, like we’re trying to win a battle and we’re lost in the dark, and I- I…” A deep, choked, trembling sigh. “ ‘m scared.”

“Oh, Martin, baby,” Marcin cooes, trying his hardest to soothe Martin’s nerves.

“It’s hopeless.”

Frowns accentuate the features of both of their faces.

“I should just give up.”

“No, no, no!” Marcin chides calmly, “no, you have so much more to fight. You can do it. Don’t give up, kitten, I know you can make it out, just don’t give up, please,” but Martin sniffles and Marcin’s encouragement falls on deaf ears. He sighs and tries to focus on getting Martin feeling better. “It’s late for you, isn’t it?”

A gentle nod from Martin.

“Go to bed now, get some extra sleep,” Marcin says, well-aware that it is far before Martin’s typical bedtime, “maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Martin sobs tearlessly and the phone in his hand leans against the pillow next to him on the bed far too big, making him feel far too small. “Doubt it,” he murmurs, but he’s tuckered out from the pain and ache of failure.

“I promise you’ll feel better.”

It takes a few more minutes of gentle reassurances and “I-love-yous” and “I’m always here for yous”, but soon enough Martin falls into a fitful sleep, whimpering and sniffling even as he dreams. In his own kind of heartache, Marcin watches, too far away to offer physical comforts.

He takes a screenshot of Martin’s cute sleeping face, then sets out to change that distance between them.

\---

Seven hours and a decent sum of euros later, Marcin checks the address Martin had sent him a few days ago and raps his knuckles upon the hotel room door. Hopefully, Martin isn’t out at the moment; he’d mentioned that he had no roommates so if Martin is off at scrims then Marcin will be left without a clue on what to do, though that’s never bothered him before if he’s being honest with himself. Right when Marcin is about to go to their Berlin flat and wait there for Martin, a beautiful, sweet, Swedish-tinted voice echoes down the hallway.

_ “Entschuldigung, Herr, das ist mein Zimmer,” _ Martin says softly, not realising who stands at his door.

“Oh, good,” Marcin says with a sunshine smile, “I was worried I had the wrong one.” Marcin knows the exact moment when Martin recognises him - it’s the same moment in which Martin’s body ends up in his embrace, when Martin’s lips meet his, when Martin’s arms hug him tightly and squeeze hard like they never want to ever let go. “Missed you,” Marcin whispers into Martin’s ear.

“Missed you more,” Martin giggles with tears in his eyes. Together, they open the door to the room and Marcin sets his backpack on a low table, then retrieves a present.

“You got me _ prinsesstårta!” _

The smile on Martin’s face makes all the travel worth it. 

“You’re going to make me fat with all the treats you buy me,” Martin teases, already grabbing a fork and setting the pretty pink rose garnishes aside in favour of holding a neat bite of cake to Marcin’s lips. Grinning, Marcin wraps his lips around the sweet, tart cake and savours the combination. He pinches Martin’s hip and gives the blond boy a kiss once he’s done.

“You deserve each and every sweet thing I buy you, sweetheart,” says Marcin with a sappy smile. Martin giggles and kisses him gently for it.

Only when the cake is long gone and he’s claimed one of Martin’s hoodies as his own to cuddle with his boyfriend in does Marcin wonder if he’s keeping Martin from something more important. “No scrims today,” Martin replies when Marcin asks, “besides, I wouldn’t want to go to them anyway…”

“Oh, baby… is it really that bad?” Marcin gently smoothes Martin’s hair and kisses his forehead, tucking the blankets tighter around them, curled up in the hotel bed.

The shrug Marcin gets in response isn’t promising. “Just… ‘s kinda mental boom… I just want a break for a bit.”

Marcin sighs sorrowfully and hugs Martin, pressing gentle kisses to his neck, his ears, his nose, every inch of his skin until Martin can’t help but giggle weakly, though the smile on his face fades as soon as Marcin pulls away, and Marcin sighs again.

“Dark times, huh?”

Martin shrugs with a sad sigh. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad Riot gave you all a break, though, this should help you to reset.”

Martin shrugs again. “Yeah, I guess. Looking at tomorrow is like looking into the void, though.” He sniffles. “No hope. ‘s all dark. Group of Death.”

With a tender touch, Marcin brushes a stray lock of Martin’s hair behind his ear. “Don’t be afraid of the dark, _ kotek,” _ he murmurs with another kiss.

A sniffle and a soft hum fill the air with peace and a sense of warm, comforting love that hangs over them like a cuddly blanket. “Shouldn’t I be, though?” That blanket is tugged tighter around Martin’s shoulders as Marcin kisses his cheeks chastely. 

“You’ll only see the stars once the sky is dark enough.”

At Marcin’s words, Martin sighs softly, a cute whistling whoosh pouring off his lips, and the cloudy skies in his eyes clear into beautiful galaxies of green and blue that captivate Marcin, drawing him closer into interstellar depths until their lips meet in a meteor shower. “You always know just what to say, don’t you,” Martin murmurs with a smile that shines like a starry sky.

“For you? Of course.” 

Content with that, their lips recollide like celestial bodies merging, and skin on skin blends them together, inseparable, united, until their limbs entangle like orbital systems. Moonlight shines on sweat-slicked, shimmering skin. Each of their hot breaths crashes against its companion, creating swirling microcosmos sparked by lightning in their veins and sharp, keening soundwaves echoing between blue and green galaxies. Time runs on, but it never runs away from them, as moments turn to seconds, then to minutes, then hours, and even as they collapse gasping against one another, they stay awake and together. 

“Feel better about tomorrow?” the brunet reclothed in Martin’s sweatshirt asks in the faintest of whispers.

A nod and a kiss to his cheek are his answers from the blond Swede in Marcin’s hoodie, and the victory he claims, the place in Knockouts that becomes rightfully his, provides evidence beyond doubt of sidereal magic in the Berlin skies.

_ The city sleeps but we’ll stay awake a little longer _

_ I can see a part of you that isn’t afraid of the night _

_ The sun sinks and we still hold each other _

_ And we ask ourselves _

_ Who’s afraid of the dark? _


End file.
